I struggle with my memory of my father, who died a few years ago. I'm pretty sure he was a narcissist. He was childish, selfish, self-centred and lacked empathy. He was also an alcoholic. He hurt me over and over again with his behaviour. He married a woman (my stepmother) who was also incredibly difficult. She was very critical of me and because he hung on her every word, she helped him to see me in an even more critical light than he did already. She has said breathtakingly, unbelievably rude and hurtful things to me. Whenever I visited them, I repressed my real personality and became the person I thought they wanted me to be. Sometimes this worked, but, generally, it left me feeling incredibly lonely and depressed.
What I struggle with is that there are also many good points about both my father and SM. My father could sometimes be kind. It took a lot for him to stop thinking about himself, but sometimes he would cook me a special meal for my birthday or make a special trip to visit me. This gave me hope for many years that our relationship might change for the better, although I gave up on this in the end. My SM can also be kind, although I think she enjoys it if we are in trouble of any sort because it feeds her sense of superiority.
Both DF and SM thought outward appearance was everything. If I spoke to Dad, he would only ever tell me about the latest party he'd been to and the important people he'd met. He would rarely ask about me. I felt that I was a disappointment to him.
Superficially, our relationship seemed fine. Dad and my SM were able to keep up appearances and I never let them down. But I know that they never really knew me.
I still haven't made sense of it all. I grieved so deeply for my DF when he died, but I was also haunted by all the bad memories. It was hard for me to find many good ones and that was sad in itself.
When I read about toxic people, I feel confused. Do my DF and SM fit into this category? And, if they do, what effect has it had on me? Most of the time, I'm just too busy with my life to think about it directly, but it is always there, niggling at me.